


Deeper in Debt

by UnderCoverMarsupial



Series: Debts [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fights, Gambling, Happy Sex, How Is There Not A Tag For That, Jealous Anakin, Oral Sex, Padme is still amazing, Pegging, Poor Obi-Wan, Possessive Anakin, Slavery, Vaginal Sex, anakin needs to correct himself, before he wrecks himself, pegging with love, sensual pegging, whiphid OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 22:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderCoverMarsupial/pseuds/UnderCoverMarsupial
Summary: Five years after the end of part one of Debts. Padme Amidala is Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. In her work against slavery across the galaxy she has made friends and enemies. When she and a Whiphid colleague investigate an underground pit fight, she finds herself confronted with her past.





	1. Chapter 1

“Chancellor? Governor Mishkin is here to see you,” C3K0 said. “Shall I tell him you are unwell?”

Padme Amidala waved a hand at the droid, indicating it should send the governor in. She had been rubbing her temples, fighting off another of the headaches that seemed to be plaguing her lately. But Robar Mishkin was more than an ally, he was a friend. It would make a pleasant change to meet with a friend.

“Governor Mishkin. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Chancellor Amidala smiled warmly and shook the governor’s hand. The tall golden-furred Whiphid bowed and smiled, towering over her. Padme led him over to the seating area of her suites, the sunlight casting soft golden shafts on the plush blue and grey furnishings. They waited politely while the droid brought tea and retreated back out the door. As soon as it was gone, Padme breathed a sigh of relief.

“Please sit, Robar, you have my full attention,” she said. The governor of the Arnesim system was a powerful being in the New Senate, and a strong ally of the young Chancellor. He took his time arranging his robes and sat on the chaise facing the windows. Padme smiled internally.

“Still worried about assassins?” she teased and he smiled, tapping his sheared-off tusk.

“Old habits die hard, my dear. I think the price on my head is now close to ten thousand credits," he said with a wink.

“You dealt the Hutts and their slaver allies a sharp blow, my friend. Take the ten thousand credits as a badge of honor!” Padme said, laughing. Robar Mishkin had been Padme’s first and sometimes only ally in the fight against slavery in the Republic. She didn’t mention the price on her own head, or on that of her Jedi guards. Obi-Wan and Anakin sometimes competed to see who could command a higher bounty.

“Dear Padme,” Robar began, pouring them each a cup. “It is good to see you well. I am afraid I am here on something of an unpleasant errand. Sadly, it touches me personally; but there is an opportunity here as well. If we can act quickly,"

Padme took the offered cup, curious about this ‘personal matter.’ Governor Mishkin leaned forward, his golden eyes earnest but troubled.

“Our successes in the outer rim have been nothing short of miraculous. But we have another slavery problem, right here in the Core," His voice was tight with anger. Robar Mishkin had begun his life chained as a galley slave in a spice trader. Only the sheer luck of a passing Jedi had saved him from the horrors of that life.

“You are speaking of the fighting pits," she said, her brow knitting in frustration. She rubbed her temples again.

“Yes, Chancellor. I am. This terrible scourge has become all the rage among some of Coruscant’s uplevel social scenes. As well as the wealthy of many core worlds,"

“You are speaking of the noble houses? Or the guilds? What levels are turning to this… entertainment?” Padme asked cautiously.

“All, Chancellor. The nobility, the syndicates, anyone with credits to spare has been betting in the pits at some point."

Padme nodded,  closing her eyes. Lately she had been feeling restless, short tempered. Her dreams were bad again, and sleep eluded her. She took a deep breath and focused.

“How can we shut the pits down?” she asked. “Do they not move on and off worlds at will?”

“Ah, that is where my… personal issue… arises. I have received some information," The governor frowned unhappily. He rubbed a huge hand down his face.

“A friend- well someone I thought was a friend- has slipped and revealed that the most notorious underground ring of all- the Golden Fist- will be staging a series of bouts on Coruscant itself,"

Padme leapt to her feet.

“Here?” she cried. “They dare! Have you told anyone?”

“No Chancellor. I have told no one. This… friend… is now my eyes and ears in this. And there is an additional complication," He stroked his beard and grimaced. “This is some sort of festival event for the operators of Golden Fist. Fighters and clubs from all over the galaxy are coming. There will be hundreds of fights, and the buying and selling of fighters. The event is to last days. So there will be many, many people here from across the Core."

“So this is an opportunity. We can shut down one of the biggest pits in operation!” Padme’s eyes were shining.

“Yes Chancellor, but given that there are likely to be many people of importance there, including my foolish friend, we may have to be somewhat… discreet,"

“Why?” Padme snapped. She flashed her teeth in a snarl before she quite realized. Robar blinked at her in surprise. _What is wrong with me?_ she wondered, dabbing at her brow again. Schooling her features she took a deep breath and gestured the governor to continue.

“My lady -forgive me, _Chancellor_ \- perhaps this will make it clear,” he said quietly. “The purse for the owner of the final champion is one million credits."

Padme sat back, her jaw hanging open. The number was staggering. It was impossible. And that was just the champion’s purse?

“I need to see one of these fights," Padme said. Governor Mishkin sighed.

“I was worried you would say that," He reached into his pocket and brought out a datapad.

“There is a preliminary fight tonight- Golden Fist has had trouble with some of its champions- so they are fighting them to thin out some of the competition and rile the crowds. There will also be some auctioning of fighters ahead of the main bouts."

“How will we get in? How will we not be recognized?” Padme asked, already standing.

“Disguises are the norm at these things. Part of the festivities. And as for getting in- Thanks to my friend, I have invitations. One cannot even get the location of the pit without direct invitation."

Padme threw back her head and laughed out loud.

“This is why we are friends! My security detail will be _livid_. But I cannot bring the Praetorians. I shall ask a Jedi friend to stand by in case I need a rescue,"

 

\--------------

 

“Absolutely not!” Both Obi-Wan and Anakin were facing her down, matching scowls on their faces. Padme rolled her eyes at them.

“Master Jedi,” Padme addressed Obi-Wan as the more senior. “We are friends but you presume too much. I am Chancellor of the Republic. You cannot dictate to me,” she said. Both men put their hands on their hips at the same time and Padme suppressed a grin. The Jedi seemed embarrassed, but they stood their ground.

“Chancellor, you have done many foolhardy things in your time but-” Obi-Wan started.

“This is impossible! You cannot go to an illegal pit fight alone. You simply cannot!” Anakin was nearly shouting, waving his arms and pacing back and forth.

“Ani, stop it. Just stop it,” Padme warned. “I will be with Governor Mishkin and two of his men. You two will wait around the corner in an alley- I will call if I need you."

As she turned to leave, Anakin stopped her.

“Padme,” he said quietly, his hand on her sleeve. “Please, let me come with you, I want to be by your side. I need to protect you. I want-” His blue eyes were earnest and Padme had a glimpse of the boy he had been, though he now towered over her. His Padawan braid swung as reached out. It was getting long; he would be due for his trials in a few years. But his gaze lingered in a very un-Jedi way on her face. It infuriated her.  She glanced over at Obi-Wan but he was on a comm, oblivious to his padawan.

Really, this had gone on long enough. Anakin had been underfoot since he was a child. And as flattering as his attention was at times, it was no longer acceptable. She was Chancellor of the Republic, no longer the girl he admired as a boy. The vows of a Jedi were not made lightly.

“Padawan. You presume,” she repeated coldly. “Take your hand off of me and go with your master." He looked as if she had struck him and she sighed internally. She plucked his hand off of her sleeve and took a step away from him.

“Ani, you must go. And think on the vows you are going to take," She meant it kindly but he grinned, that cocksure smile that made her want to slap him as much as it tugged at her heart.

“I would rather think about you,” he said, and sauntered off. Padme clenched her fists in frustration. She would ask the Council to reassign the boy, even though it would mean losing Obi-Wan. Things could not go on like this.

 

\------------------

 

The elaborate wrap covered her head to toe, only her eyes peeking out from the swirls of silks. She wore a half mask as well, studded with jewels. She was glad to see she had not fought Robar’s choice of costume. She was far from the only woman disguised this way. Still, the Golden Fist’s Coruscant pit was not a pretty place. She had two snub nosed little blasters hidden about her person and a long blade in her boot. Obi-Wan had given her a tracking device as well. He had adhered it to the small of her back without comment, his blue eyes speaking volumes. Padme kissed him gently on the cheek before they stepped out to her waiting speeder.

“Obi-Wan, keep Anakin in line please…” she had murmured, not looking at the younger Jedi, who was glaring at them from across the speeder pad. “If Jedi appear at this fight, they could cancel the main bouts and we will lose this chance,”she said. Obi-Wan nodded soberly.

“I know, Chancellor. I will keep him by me,” he said. Their eyes locked for a moment. He was a good man, and Padme trusted him more than anyone in her inner circle. “Padme…” he started to speak but she waved him off. There was no time for another lecture. The tracker had been concession enough.

Now she was glad for the tiny thing taped to the middle of her back. Her whiphid friend had dyed his fur and was dressed in the clothes of one of his homeworld clans. His half mask was plain white, with a short beak. Every other person seemed to have masks and veils, many more elaborate than theirs. Still Padme felt exposed. She had to trust the crowd was too drunk and crazed on blood and violence to notice them.

The pit itself was no more than a sunken oval, packed with bloodstained sand, with crude seats built up and around the wall which kept the fights contained. The announcer sat in a shielded durasteel booth, and bandied back and forth with the Gamemaster in the ring. The odds were displayed on a board above the announcer’s head, along with profiles of the fighters. The odds shifted continuously depending on the scores in the sands below as well as the amounts of money being wagered. Padme had watched the first fights with growing horror.

The matches were long or short but ended only when a fighter was unable to rise at the sound of the horn. In one, a terrible shout had gone up from the crowds as the odds shifted in favor of one of the bait fighters. When she won, the place went wild. Most of the audience was screaming at the announcer and flinging trash and starting fights in the stands. Suddenly the roar increased as the Gamemaster stepped forward with a rusted old lightsaber, its blade flickering dangerously. Before Padme could even realize what was happening he had sliced off one of the fighter’s hands. The sound was drowned by the crowd, but Padme stared in horror at the fighter’s screaming face, contorted with agony and fear. The odds shifted but she somehow won again, seeming to _will_ herself to move. When the Gamemaster came forth again, Padme had excused herself.

While the bouts were going on, the auctions behind the pit were doing brisk business. Most fighters seemed to change hands multiple times, no sooner dragged out of the arena then shoved onto the block, stripped naked before a milling crowd of slavers and the obvious uplevel rich, with their veils and expensive masks. The crowds here were loud too, arguing and bargaining and bidding loudly on the best fighters. Here the horror was of a different kind. Complete indifference. Fighters were bought and sold, traded for spice, sent to breed, sold as bait for better fighters in other pits. An entire industry supporting the pits around the galaxy.

Padme walked slowly around the auction area, tension surging in her like a tide. She felt sick and angry, but also strangely exhilarated in a way she didn’t like and couldn’t place. Her boots crunched on the stones and sand, and she was sweating under her veils. The scented silks acted as a bit of a shield from the stink of filth and blood and sweat. But it wasn’t enough. Feeling lightheaded she paused with her back to a wall to catch her breath. The sounds of the talks around her filtered in and out of her hearing.

“—need for breeding,"

“no less than ten thousand”

“the odds have shifted on the togruta again”

“no wookies until next week”

“a fine slave”

“but where did she get the credits”  
“I’d rather have droids”

“you should see that zabrak – they will surely maim him tonight”

The last perked her ears up. A zabrak. That was unusual. They made poor slaves, almost impossible to control. Under her veils Padme felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of her face, trailing the line of her jaw. It tickled. As she reached up to wipe it away she noticed distantly that her hand was shaking. Not merely trembling, but shaking. She took a moment to breathe, trying to determine the source of her mood. She stared at her gloved hands like she had never seen them before. She took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall, heading for another row of cells.

As she worked her way along she made herself breathe slowly, despite the smell. The shouting was less here, but only because half the cells were empty and the auction block was behind her. There were guards here, big mercenaries in mixed armor. They leered in her direction but didn’t stop her. She assumed a woman like her was a common sight. She passed a corpse, a broad human with both hands cut off. There was a rat perched on the dead man’s face. She forced herself to keep from flinching, aware of the guards’ eyes.

Only when approaching the end of the row, where a tired twi’lek was leaning on a vibro spear, talking to his counterpart, did the guards address her. The twi’lek straightened but it was his companion who spoke, his face covered in a strange mask.

“No further my lady. The champions on this end are not for sale," he said, the mask muffling his words.

“I want to see," she said simply. Why was she doing this? She felt feverish and her anger was simmering below the surface.

“No point in seeing, my lady” the Twi’lek said “these two aren’t going to leave the arena alive tonight. Gamemaster is tired of them," The masked guard laughed and shook his head.

“We all are!” he said.

“Then there is nothing to lose by letting me see," Padme said reasonably. She took a step forward and the two guards looked at each other and shrugged.

“Suit yourself," The twi’lek said and waved her by. “Don’t blame us if he bites you."

There were three cells at this end. The first was empty. The second had a Cathar pacing back and forth who didn’t even glance in her direction. She looked into the last cell, where the champion was apparently sleeping, laying flat on his back on the rough floor, one arm thrown over his eyes. She didn’t need to see the markings on his bare torso, or the familiar scar- every part of her recognized him instantly. It was Maul.

Without a word she spun on her heel and walked back the way she had come, keeping her strides even and smooth. Passing the guards again, she pressed a hundred credit chit into each of their hands with a nod, leaving smiles and thanks in her wake. She was no longer hot. Her hands were not shaking. Instead she understood everything. Her strange emotions, her anger, the nightmares. Maul was here. He was the champion they were “tired of," They were going to maim him until he lost and then leave his body for the rats. Maul. _Her_ Maul, for the rats.

She stepped out into the cool of the night, pressing another credit chit into a guard’s hand for a promise to be let back in the same door. Once she was clear of the alleyway she touched the commlink on her wrist and called Obi-Wan.

“Listen to me very carefully. I need a lightsaber. One no one will miss. Send Anakin to get it, and meet me in the speeder warehouse. There is no time to waste."

Obi-Wan didn’t argue. He didn’t ask any questions. When he found her in the speeder warehouse he gave her a rough hug but didn’t question her strange request. She had never been more grateful for Anakin’s unorthodox master than this moment. She squeezed him hard, taking a moment to rest her head against his shoulder. After a deep breath she straightened.

“Obi-Wan, things may get ugly in there,” she said. “Promise me you will keep Anakin here.”

He nodded and she touched his face. She knew that nothing would be the same once he found out about Maul. Nothing. She thought her heart might break from it.

“Obi-Wan,” she said, her voice shaking. “I want you to know how much I care about you. I hope-”

She was cut off by Anakin’s sudden return. Obi-Wan stepped away from her hastily but Anakin didn’t seem to have noticed. The opposite of Obi-Wan he immediately launched into questions, demanding to know what was wrong, why she was acting so strange. He tried to insist that he accompany her back inside.

“Not another word Anakin,” Padme snapped, reaching out with trembling hands. “Give it to me now!”

The Jedi handed the training saber to the Chancellor, his face closing in at the rebuke. He didn’t pout but he was close to it. Obi-Wan laid a hand on his arm and nodded to Padme.

“We will be here Chancellor," Was all the older Jedi said. Her face was flushed and there were tears standing in the corner of her eyes. She knew Obi-Wan could sense something was dreadfully wrong but she didn’t care. None of it mattered. Her Maul for the rats. No. She spun on her heel, tucking the saber into the small of her back, wrapping it tight in her belt before pulling her coverings back on.

There was still a fair amount of chaos in the pit arena. Money was changing hands at a frantic rate. She heard “last fight” several times as she passed and her heart seemed to be rooted to the top of her mouth. She re-found Robar and gripped his arm in an iron grasp. He looked at her with growing alarm.

“What is it? Where have you been? What has happened?” The questions tumbled out of his mouth one after the other. She pulled his head down so he could hear her over the shouts.

“I need you to take your information, and everything we have seen tonight, to Bail Organa. Go now," she said, her voice hard. He shook his head and was opening his mouth to refuse but Padme yanked him down again.

“Do as I say, Robar! Get out. Now. Before the next fight. The Jedi are two buildings down in an alley. Here is the signal to reach them."  
“But Padme…”

“No buts. Go now! Go straight to the Jedi and make them take you straight to Bail. I have a beacon on me, so they will know where I am. But there is a thing I must do here."

She took a deep breath and stepped back.

“Go," she said and began to walk back to their seats. He gave her one last long look then left, pushing his way against the tide of beings all coming back in to see the next bout. The lifeless form of the last fighter was being dragged out in a trail of blood and slime and the odds were being posted for the next bout. She heard “zabrak” enough to know she had made it back just in time. The crowd was a solid howling mass as the gamemaster emerged and signaled the announcer.

For Padme everything slowed to a crawl. She saw the new challengers brought in, two of them. She saw the red face of the announcer, big as a moon. Moving in slow motion she saw the guards with the energy chains braced tight pull Maul in by the collar and wrists. They hauled his arms apart as far as they would go, pulling so hard he lifted off the ground a few inches. Only then did others come and take the collar off. She caught absurd details: his mouth working around the filthy gag, the little puffs of dust kicking up under the feet of the guards. The overhead light closest to the announcer was flickering fitfully, making the screaming mouths in that corner pop in and out of the darkness in staccato flashes.

Even under all the filth and blood it was unmistakably Maul. His eyes blazed and he was snarling despite the gag. Thinner than when she had seen him last, he was still easily the most dangerous person present. They had done everything short of the maiming to reduce it. His legs were tied together on a short chain and his body was a mass of cuts and welts and bruises. She found herself standing, biting her knuckle hard enough to bleed as the announcer described the coming fight. Padme heard none of it. She saw the two challengers come tearing across to Maul, weapons waving, attacking even as he was still held. Padme screamed, her voice drowned out as the two guards released Maul’s hands just before the contenders struck.

Even as they were on him Maul was already in the air, flipping over one, catching them under the chin and snapping their neck as he spun and landing neatly on both feet. The fighter at his feet kicked his last and the other paused in his charge, circling instead. The crowd roared and threw their drinks, and anything else at the champion as the odds shifted again. The other contender lunged in swinging a long knife but Maul dodged it easily, trading punches briefly before elbowing the other being hard in the face and burying its own knife in its throat. The entire fight had taken less than three minutes. The odds were spinning again and even more objects were thrown in the ring. The guards rushed in and shot Maul with some kind of electric device even as he knocked one down, stabbing hard in a spray of blood. His whole body arched as the charge hit him. The stolen knife fell uselessly from his hand. He lay on the floor shaking as they clipped the collar back on and the energy chains snapped back on with a hiss and a pop. Again he was dragged up off his feet, his arms stretched impossibly wide.

The crowd was screaming for changing the odds, for more, and more. They were slowly coalescing into chants of _maim him! maim him!_ that made Padme light-headed. The smell and even the taste of blood was everywhere. Padme realized she had bitten her lip. The announcer was still calling odds but Padme noticed the guards were hesitating. She saw one look back at the gamemaster, lowering his grip on the chain just a bit. Maul’s feet hit the ground and he staggered, sagging into the chains. Without even realizing it, Padme was descending the stepped seats to the railing, her eyes locked on the Zabrak.

Time slowed again and she focused all of her being on the red and black head, bowed low as he hung from the chains. He had not yet looked up from the shocking he had received. She watched intently as he struggled to get his feet under him and lift his head. Mentally she willed him to look up, begged him to wake up and _look at her_. She saw his shoulders heave and twist and then drop down again as he struggled for consciousness. Was he drugged? They only had one chance at this.

Padme had reached the railing. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into the top of Maul’s head.

_Get up. Get up and look at me. Look up Darth Maul. Look up!_

And somehow he did. The gamemaster was stepping forward, egged on by the crowd. He pulled the rusty saber from his belt and switched it on. Again it flickered and seemed to twist and hiss, its orange light fitful and unstable. The crowd was bellowing with excitement, shoving forward. Maul’s head came up at the sound but instead of the gamemaster his eyes locked on hers.

He knew her. Despite the veils and mask and the crowd pushing her around- He knew her. Behind the blood stained gag his mouth curled at the corners slightly and his eyes blazed at her. She fumbled with the saber at her back, holding his gaze. When she pulled it out his eyes closed briefly. She threw the saber almost casually, flipping it up into the air, confident of the outcome.

It was a small thing, barely noticed as it spun through the air amid the cups and bottles and floating betting flimsies. But Padme heard every breath in her ear as it flew

_Inhale_

_Exhale_

_Inhale_

She saw Maul’s eyes open and his body seem to curl before exploding sideway, yanking one of the guards over and catching the saber in the same roll. When the green blade hummed into being there was a moment of stunned silence. Then panic. Half the crowd was convinced it was part of the show, the other half stampeding for the door as Maul freed himself and dispatched the gamemaster in one sweeping motion. Some of the guards fired blasters, retreating for the door. Maul batted the bolts aside scornfully, sending the shots into the backs of the fleeing crowd.

Padme thought for a moment that she would be trampled in the stampede, but she clung to the railing and clambered over, peering down before jumping into the pit. She grabbed instinctively at her veil.

_I mustn’t be recognized!_

She landed awkwardly and staggered but Maul was there, one arm around her waist, the other covering her from the blaster fire. Once she was steady on her feet he was gone, tearing into the remaining guards with a ferocity that made Padme pause. She drew her blasters and followed in his wake, keeping her eyes on a swivel. She spotted someone in the crowd aiming at Maul’s back and shot them without thought, still running forward.

The door was jammed shut but Maul thrust the saber through the mechanism until it wheezed open. She stood at his back, facing away while he hauled it open. She fired blindly a few times to keep everyone’s heads down before squeezing through the gap.

In the dark hallway she holstered one of her blasters and reached up to yank the gag away. Then she jerked the mechanism on the back of the collar, popping it and the shackles on his limbs off at once. He shook his head, a tired smile at the corners of his cracked lips.

“Of all the places…” he began but she silenced him by pressing her mouth on his, quick but hard.

“No time," she said. “We must get out," He nodded and grabbed her free hand, trotting forward through the darkened tunnel. The light from the green saber was just enough to light their way. They came through the auction room into total chaos as the slavers and gambling heads were rushing to move their stock. Maul glanced at Padme, a question in his eyes. Hers were hard as stone.

“Kill them all. Free the fighters as you go," She pushed her back against the wall and squeezed off a few covering shots while Maul closed the distance. What happened next was nothing less than a massacre. She caught a glimpse -more than a glimpse- of what he was, what his master had made him. He killed with a kind of efficient grace. No action wasted, a perfect forward motion leaving bodies in his wake. He blew the locks off of all the cages with one sweeping gesture, never pausing in his hunt. In less time than could be believed, he was standing in a ring of corpses, shouting orders to the other fighters who quickly took the weapons off the guards’ bodies before scattering into the warren of tunnels under the pit. Maul paused only long enough to grab a cloak to throw over his bare shoulders before grabbing Padme’s hand again.

She led now, and they trotted down several corridors and out to the same side door that Padme had used before. The guard from before was gone, and a few patrons were running out with them but Padme paid them no mind. Let them escape and tell everyone. Let them be afraid. She tugged at Maul’s hand to indicate the direction and he nodded, cutting off the saber but keeping it in his hand.

Without hesitating she began working her way uplevel and east, away from the chaos. She found an express lift and spliced her way into its controls, sending them smoothly up and up towards the glowing lights of the Senatorial district.

Once inside, Maul collapsed to all fours against the wall, his head hanging. She turned to him but he waved her away.

“Just tired," he grunted. She nodded, dialing Obi-Wan on her wrist comm. She typed a message rather than call- _Escaped. Unhurt. Thank you for what you gave me._ She did the same for the aides in her office, claiming she didn’t feel well and would stay home for a few days. The lift slowed and they got out on a skywalk beside an empty speeder park. Choosing a speeder at random she pushed the now staggering Maul in and spliced the controls to start.

The trip across the district was silent. Maul’s eyes were closed and his breath was steady but shallow. His brow was furrowed and there were lines of pain on his face.

As Chancellor of the Republic Padme had expansive and luxurious dwellings at the top of one of the highest towers facing the Senate. But as Padme Nabierri, who sometimes grew sick of the pomp and needed privacy and quiet, she kept a small flat beside the art district that only a handful of aides knew about.  

The sound of the lock clicking home behind them was the sweetest sound she had heard in ages. She stood for a moment leaning on the door with her eyes closed, absorbing the silence. It was interrupted by a series of low curses and thumps from the direction of the fresher.  Emerging from her reverie, she passed through the living and dining areas to her own room. She stopped in the kitchen to drop her filth and blood covered robes into the incinerator. She didn’t care how many credits burned with those clothes.

A glance in the fresher showed that Maul had managed to get the hot water on and was sitting on the floor with his head back, just letting the grime flow off of him. The room was near solid steam. Padme threw on a robe before going back out to the kitchen. She tried to remember what Maul ate- but it was five years… meat mostly? She set the droid to work and went to the other fresher, leaving Maul to his scalding hot water.

The unreality of the situation was making her dizzy. She rinsed off the sweat without much thought, letting the cold water run over her, her hands and forehead on the cool tiles. Deciding that was enough she cut the water off and wrapped her hair before re-donning her robe.

After checking on the droid she poured herself a drink and padded over to the balcony. As Padme watched the hypnotic streams of sky traffic, she felt her nerves start to steady. She kept the fact that she had likely ruined any chance of catching Golden Fist far back in her mind. There was no choice. No choice at all. Distantly she heard the fresher cut off and eventually the sound of another drink being poured. She didn’t turn but felt her body relax slightly as the Zabrak came up beside her. He had a towel wrapped around his middle and was steaming slightly. They stood side by side for a moment without speaking. Then he sighed and slipped his arm around her shoulders in a rough side hug.

“I don’t know how you knew, or what led you there tonight but I am in your debt again Queen Amidala," he said. “I thought I saw you look into my cell but you were gone so quickly I assumed my mind was slipping," She looked over, watching his throat work as he threw back most of his drink.

“It was a coincidence,” she said.

“No such thing."

“The Force then."

“ _Again,"_ he said, shaking his head.

“I saw you laid out in that cell and it was like everything else vanished,"

“Where did you get a saber?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker," she said the names deliberately. He shook his head again.

“It is the Force then. Of all the Jedi…”

“They are my friends in a way, or rather Obi-Wan is," Padme said. “We went through alot together. Even after… after…”

“After I left."

She nodded, it seemed an easier way to say it than _after the Jedi caught and killed your master and the galaxy fought a three-year war over the ruins of his plans._

“How did you end up in that pit Maul? How did they possibly catch you?”

He scratched at his back horn, looking embarrassed.

“It started off well, I killed…someone… for… someone else. But in my arrogance I didn’t look to be betrayed by my… well. To make a long story short they drugged me and I found myself in the belly of a slave ship," he said with a grimace.  “I nearly blew a hole in the hull in my anger. But then I saw we were landing in Coruscant. The Jedi would have sensed me immediately. I thought I could just fight my way out," He rubbed his face. “But then… the drugs, the magna collars… they kept us barely conscious,"

“How long?” she asked, trying to imagine it.

“A few cycles. They were excited about me at first. I thought it would be Cog Hive Seven all over again,"

“What?”

“A story for another time," he said, waving it away.

“How many fights before last night?” she asked. He shrugged.

“Three that I really remember. There may have been another- I was heavily drugged and chained to something- I’m unsure.”

“How did you-”

He looked at her and Padme waved a hand, indicating she was withdrawing the question. She didn’t need the details. She had only the vaguest idea of what his training had been like, but his survival instincts were something she knew intimately. He cleared his throat and continued.

“Suffice to say I was in a bad spot when out of nowhere there is Queen Amidala, Chancellor of the entire Galactic Republic, in a shithole ten credit fighting pit in a five thousand credit gown… handing me a lightsaber!” He laughed out loud and she smiled.

“It isn’t how I thought I would see you again," she said.

There was an awkward pause.

“I saw you once," he said softly. She turned to look at him, curious.

“Oh yes?” she asked. He nodded, finishing up his drink. He walked over to the bottle, bringing the whole thing back over. He topped off hers and filled his own glass again. He had stopped steaming and the dark lines of his tattoos made him appear to slip in and out of the darkness around them. His eyes glowed when the skylane lights them. It reminded her forcibly of their quiet moments on his ship, the two of them trying to navigate a truce despite the fear driving them.

“You came to Jakku after the battle there," he said, bringing her out of her reverie. She nodded. The memory was both painful and joyous.

“I did. It was awful. Tarkin resisted to the last. He nearly won before he died. He…” She paused and stared at him, her mouth hanging open.

“You!”

“Killed him? Yes," he said it simply but she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. It had been Maul? Tarkin had been found in his chambers, no sign of a struggle, locked in from the inside- simply dead. His men surrendered in superstitious dread, saying there had been a curse on the ship.

“The executive officer said it was his heart…” she said wonderingly. Maul chuckled darkly.

“It was," he said. Padme shivered. She stared blankly at the traffic for a moment, remembering how relieved they had been. She had been Chancellor for less than a year, desperate for a breakthrough in the war. And it had been Maul?

“And you saw me when I came?” she said, trying to grasp how close they had been.

“I did. I watched you come off your ship. I was two transports back when you went to see the crash site. I didn’t want you to sense me. But I wanted to see your face," He sounded almost wistful.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” she asked. She wasn’t angry, merely curious. He shook his head.

“What happened, on Naboo, on Alderaan… it was like a dream. I didn’t know what it meant to you, or how you would think on it later," He stretched and winced.

“We’ll talk tomorrow," Padme said. “Let’s eat. I can’t think straight right now,"

They ate in silence, both tired and lost in thought. Afterwards Padme applied bacta to the worst of the cuts on Maul’s back while he slathered it onto the abrasions on his arms. Padme found herself smiling as she wrapped the bandages.

“I couldn’t smell bacta for years without thinking of you," she said with a laugh. He flashed his sharp teeth again in a grin.

“Me neither," he said.

When Maul followed Padme to bed she felt a flash of the same excitement from five years ago. Her younger self, grieving but triumphant, had taken the Sith Apprentice to her bed impulsively, without thought. It seemed a natural response at the time to the strangeness of their alliance, the intensity of their shared experience. But now she knew better. Her actions had consequences, _galaxy-wide_ consequences. And a Sith lover was not something the Chancellor of the Republic could come back from. But somehow Maul was different. She felt...

“You think of me as yours," Maul said quietly, crawling in beside her and pulling her in close. There was a pause while they arranged their limbs more comfortably, memories flooding Padme’s senses.

“I suppose I do. There was a dead fighter, with a rat eating his face," she tried to explain the fear in that moment. “I thought of you, of _my_ Maul, left to the rats…” She didn’t finish. His breathing was slowing and she could feel him drifting.

“It’s true, though," he murmured. “I am yours if you will have me. I could be your sword… I could-”

“Tomorrow," she said, shifting so her face was under his chin. “Tomorrow we will talk,"

 

\----------------

Padme woke in a sudden panic. Where was she? Something was wrong. How was she… She groaned as the night before came back to her. Rubbing her face, she peered at the chrono- it was late morning. Oh she was going to have to make excuses and apologize to _so_ many people… Indeed, her wrist comm was a solid row of flashing red. Ignoring it she got up and headed to the kitchen.

“Kaf. Now," She muttered at the droid as she headed to the fresher. The little whirrs of its servos followed her and the cup was in her hand before she even realized it. She glanced back at the droid who blipped an apology.

“Ah- Lord Maul is already up? That’s fine R6. Give him whatever he wants,"

The hot water helped her organize her thoughts. She made lists as she scrubbed her skin. First she needed to speak to Robar and Bail. And check in with the Jedi before Anakin did something really foolish. Suddenly she gasped and pawed at her back. The chip was still there. Damn. Damn. Damn! She yanked it off and ran out to the living room, catching Maul as he was pouring himself another cup. He gaped at her, taking her in head to toe as she stood there naked and shedding water and soap everywhere. A slow smile spread across his tattooed face.

“Stop it!” she shouted. “The Jedi know where I am. I forgot about this blasted thing!” she flung the tiny tracer at the Sith and he caught it easily with one hand.

“Can you make it- oh I don’t know- say I am somewhere else?” she asked. He shrugged.

“I can, but whoever has the trace will know that you have been in this location for the last eight hours. I can’t change that,"

Padme groaned and uttered a very un-chancellor like curse.

“Togrutan- nice," he said and resumed looking her up and down. She turned and went to rinse off with as much dignity as she could muster. As soon as the soap was gone she dialed Obi-Wan.

“Chancellor- what is happening?” The Jedi Master asked, his tone patient but she could sense the frustration underneath. His projection was standing on her wrist with his arms crossed, his face blank.

“Obi-Wan, please tell me Anakin is with you," she said, pulling a robe on and walking back into the living room.

“He is not."

Padme drew herself up and put all her anger behind her words, knowing the Jedi would sense it, even across the city.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will find your apprentice and bring him to heel. If he shows up here I will see you both expelled from the system. See how a decade on the outer rim suits you both.” Seeing Obi-wan’s stricken face she softened her voice slightly. “Obi-Wan, he must NOT come here. There will be trouble,"

“What kind of trouble?” Obi-Wan uncrossed his arms, his face looking confused. “Padme, you are right to be angry. The Council has already decided to move Anakin away from here," The Jedi drew a deep breath.  “But there is also something wrong. You should know that the Force feels- strange- now. I have a very bad feeling-”

“Find him _now_ Obi-Wan," Padme said through gritted teeth and shut off the comms. _More kaf,_ she thought. _Now._

Maul had pushed her furniture around to make an open space and was meditating. Padme smiled, remembering, while her mind was busy cataloging what she needed to do right now. Yes. Robar and Bail.

 _I am well and safe. I will return to the Senate in_ she glanced at Maul, who was floating her coffee table lazily behind him. ... _three days. I can be reached here for now. If anyone sees Anakin Skywalker he is to be detained and sent back to the Temple immediately._

The reply from Bail was almost instant.

_Chancellor, how am I to explain this to the Senate? Robar told me everything up until he left. What happened? You must come back!_

_I cannot talk about it. You have my full authority to act on Golden Fist._

And then from Robar: _Chancellor, this is impossible. Golden Fist has vanished off world. The guilds are blaming us for the deaths and chaos at the pit. Your name has been specifically mentioned in connection. You_ **_must_ ** _return! How could you have done this? Padme please call me._

She collapsed on the couch and covered her eyes with her arm. What had she been thinking?

“What is the matter?” Maul asked, throwing himself down beside her.

“In saving you I may have put my Chancellorship on the line," she said

“Bah- the galaxy has used you enough. Come with me instead," he said, floating his cup over to his hand.  “Aside from a brief interlude on a slave ship and the odd assassination, my life isn’t that bad.”

She couldn’t help but stare at him. Was he mad?  
“What?” Maul asked, somewhat defensively. He was lounged like a cat, shirtless and covered in odd bacta patches but still completely at ease. The droid must have found him the pants he was wearing, Padme didn’t recognize them.

“Are you being serious?” she asked.

“Of course," he said simply. “You have been working for the good of people who would sooner see you dead. And you have clearly been neglecting your own happiness. I want to take you with me."

She shook her head at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. She couldn’t even formulate a response. It just blurted out without thought.

“Are you crazy? I am the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic! I cannot simply run off with some, some… _Sith_!”

Maul scooted closer, leaning in to kiss her neck.

“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time you ran away with a Sith. This particular Sith anyway,"

“Because I love politics," she said, tilting her neck to give him better access and sliding her arms around his shoulders. “I _thrive_ in this position."

“Run off for just a week then. How can I convince you?” he murmured, nipping and sucking along her jaw and behind her ears.

“Keep the Senate in line. Convince the Trade Federation to put in a route through the Outer Rim. Liberate all the slaves in the Kessel Spice mining settlements. Destroy Golden Fist for me," She laughed, rattling off her current list of problems.

“I can do all those things for you,” he said, “except keep the Senate in line. I suspect my methods there would make you unhappy." His lips continued their journey along her throat.

Padme laughed but then stopped suddenly and pushed back to look at him.

“You really _are_ being serious. You are offering to do those things for me. Really."

“Of course,” he said, sitting back with a frown. “Do I have to do them _all_ before you come away with me? I have land on Correllia you would love…”

Padme rose to her feet and began to pace.

“Maul, could you really do these things?” she asked, stopping in front of him.

“Padme, I don’t know what you think I do in my day to day life but ending Golden Fist is already on my to-do list." He began counting off on his fingers. “Freeing spice slaves would take me as long as the jump out and back, and the new Trade Federation Viceroy… Well, let’s say he knows me very well. And my re-appearance would have his _complete_ attention." Padme felt the wheels spinning in her mind at the thought. Maul could be the perfect player in the game… no one knew he even existed. He could be her eyes and ears; he could handle things that she could not be seen doing. He could…

“Power suits you Padme," He purred, reading her thoughts. “I would not object to serving you, you know. I owe you my life. Twice now.” Padme nodded, thinking over the possibilities.

“But for now, come here." He yanked her forward onto his lap. She yelped but didn’t protest as he pulled her robe open and stroked her breasts, bringing first one then the other to his mouth. The rough feel of his tongue brought a flood of memories and she gave herself over to them.

They took their time now. Padme pushed Maul back and guided his hands up over his head. She gave his wrists a little squeeze to indicate she wanted him to keep them there. His usually solemn face was wreathed in toothy smiles and he closed his eyes and groaned as she kissed his neck, his jaw.

She bent low and nosed along his collarbones, across his throat, pressing her lips to his pulse point there. The four-part beat of his hearts was clear against her mouth.

When she ran her tongue down his chest she slid off his lap, resting her elbows on his knees instead. He was panting hard and fast but kept his hands still above his head. His skin was jumping and puckering into goosebumps everywhere her mouth went. When she took his nipple in her teeth gently and licked the tip he whined high in the back of his throat.

“Harder,” he hissed and she bit down, sucking hard and sinking her teeth into the muscle of his chest. He grunted in pain and his hips bucked slightly. She did the same to the other side and then back again, left then right then left again. By the time she began licking down his hard belly his muscles were trembling under her mouth. She hooked her fingers into the waistline of his pants and tugged. He raised his hips up so they could slide down his thighs and his cock popped free and slapped against his stomach.

Padme smiled and locked eyes with Maul. He was sweating freely and his eyes were blown wide and dark.

“You look good like this,” she purred. With that she leaned forward and put her mouth at the base of his cock, just above his balls. She turned her head and gripped his shaft with her teeth. Padme bit gently, squeezing, letting him know she expected a reply.

“So do you," he gasped. "I like you in charge.” His voice was hoarse.

“Just me?” she teased. His smile vanished and he locked eyes with her, suddenly serious.

“Only you," he said. "There is no one else. There can never be anyone else.”

Padme filed this information away to think about later, but for now just made a pleased noise and licked slowly up his cock, humming to herself as she traced the lines of his tattoos. They ended under the head, which was red and weeping precum already. As Padme took it into her mouth she felt the years vanishing. The smell of his skin, like hot stones and blaster oil and leather- the taste of him, somewhere between salt and sweet- the Chancellorship and everything with it slipped away and she was just Padme Nabierri again. She sucked him slowly, just the wide head at first, then pushing more of his cock into her mouth with a groan.

“Please,” he gasped, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced up at him. “Please let me touch you.” It came out in a rush and she laughed and nodded. With a grin he lunged over her, pulling her up and on top of him, mashing his mouth against hers. He buried his face in her hair, swinging freely around them. His hands stroked her breasts and the soft skin beneath them. They were moaning into each others mouths like teenagers. When his fingers found her slit she gasped. She was wet, swollen and ready. He traced her clit with his thumb as his fingers dipped into her. She bit into his shoulder and moved her hips against his hand. She spread her legs to straddle him better and nudged against his cock.

His hands moved to her hips and he slid into her wet opening with one long push. They both stilled for a moment, savoring the connection between them.

“Oh Force,” he groaned. “I have thought of this so often.” She nodded, unable to speak, her hips already stuttering against him. Her clit was slick and hard and she found herself grinding it against the muscle at the top of his pelvis. She couldn’t seem to stop herself. He was so hot inside her, his body temperature higher than hers - she was melting.

They both jostled against each other for a few strokes, unable to control the movement of their hips and hands. But then suddenly the rhythm was there and every push of her clit against him coincided with the long slide into her core.

“I’m not going to last long,” he grunted through clenched teeth.

Padme could feel her own orgasm coming, the muscles in her belly gathering and coiling around his cock.

“Don’t hold back,” she panted. The years blurred even more. 

He made some incoherent sound and bucked his hips up into her hard. They managed just a couple of stroked before Padme felt the dam break and she came with a long wailing cry. He followed right along with her, arching his back and squeezing her against him, his eyes clenched shut. He groaned out her name, and she sank down onto his chest, turning her face against his neck. She felt her heart pounding against his and struggled to catch her breath.

They never made it to her bedroom. Maul was hard again within minutes, this time bending Padme over the chair and pressing his mouth between her legs, teasing her dripping pussy with his rough tongue. They knocked over the coffee table, sending the mugs flying with an awkward kick. They napped on the rug, Padme sprawled across Maul’s chest, listening to him purr. They ate the meal the droid made and then did it all again, luxuriating in each other. He couldn’t get enough of her hair; she couldn’t stop touching his horns, his tattoos. They told stories of their time apart, their voices soft and lazy in the sunny patches on the carpet. Hours passed. Padme briefly considered that she had not been this relaxed in years. When she said this out loud, Maul ducked his head, looking pleased but solemn.

“And you?” she asked, stroking the horn by his ear. He shook his head, his face pressed close into her belly.

“Never,” he murmured. “Never.” Padme smiled, pleased for reasons she didn't want to examine too closely.

Abruptly he got up and kissed her forehead.

“Fresher,” he said, and walked off, yawning hugely.

Padme yawned too and stretched out on the couch, feeling warm and satisfied for the first time in what felt like ages. She slipped her hand between her legs and gingerly touched her sex, swollen and still wet. She would be sore if they kept this up, but for now she just felt at peace. The sun was low in the sky and the room was dipping into shadows. She stood up, surveying the damage. Shaking her head ruefully she straightened up the fallen table and turned to pick up the tray and dishes.

She was looking to see where the cups had rolled to when the door burst inwards with a crash and Anakin Skywalker strode through, his face a thunderhead of anger. He was opening his mouth to shout when he realized that Padme was standing right in front of him, naked as the day she was born. For a split second Padme gaped at him, the cup still in her hand. Then her mouth snapped shut into a thin line and she straightened up, her eyes two black chips of ice.

“Padawan Skywalker” she said in a deceptively quiet voice. “I assume you have an excellent reason for barging into my private home in this manner." It was the same quiet tone she had used after the retaking of Naboo, when she had ordered the deaths of the two captured Neimoidian Viceroys.

“Padme!” Anakin’s voice cracked with emotion.  “Something terrible is happening. I’m here to protect you. I didn’t know where you were. You left and didn’t check in with us- and I thought…”

“Did Master Kenobi convey my message to you?” she continued, her back straight and her eyes boring into him. She had never been so angry. This nonsense with the boy stopped _now_.

“He did, but I didn’t know if you were really-” the boy stepped towards her, reaching out with his hands. Padme noticed the flush on his face and the way his eyes kept coming back to her body. She realized with a kind of lurch that it would be obvious to anyone what she had been doing. The marks of Maul’s mouth were all over her, and she could feel the moisture running down her thighs. But this BOY… He dared…

“If you dare-” she began but he tried to grab her anyway

“Padme you have to listen to me, you have to! You are in danger. And I am the only one who cares about you. The only one! No one else would come- you have to let me stay with you.” He was holding her shoulders in his large hands, squeezing too tight and trembling slightly.

“Get your hands _off_ of me," she snarled, stepping back. She desperately wanted to cover herself from his eyes but refused to back down. He was staring openly now, his eyes hot with want. Padme regretted to the core of her being not shutting down the boy’s crush when she had the chance. Now he towered over her and was beyond reason.

“Padme,” he started.

“That’s _Chancellor_ to you, boy." It was Maul. "And I believe she told you to remove your hands from her person." The quiet inner core voice was hard as durasteel.  Padme’s heart leapt even as her head understood that this was going to get very ugly. Maul was leaning casually in the door frame to the fresher, naked and dripping wet. The stolen saber was on the counter beside him but his hands were empty, one on the frame and the other rubbing a towel over his head and face. His eyes were blazing at the Jedi and she was sure the head tilt was deliberate, showing his horns. The happy lover of a moment ago was gone and Padme felt the same cold menace she had seen under the pit.

Anakin was frozen in shock. His hands dropped to his side and his eyes were shining with instinctive fear.

“You. It’s… It’s impossible…” he whispered and Padme felt a moment of regret at how young he sounded. Anakin had nightmares about Maul for years, she knew. But now he seemed to shake himself and his eyes narrowed.

“Padme, step behind me now," he said, his voice tight. Maul laughed and sauntered forward, toweling himself off casually. He picked up Padme’s discarded robe and handed it to her, turning his back to the Jedi as she put it on. He gave her a wink before turning back to the young human.

“Little Jedi, how you have _grown_!” Maul said, throwing himself onto the couch and sprawling comfortably. “You know, I predicted you would turn to the dark side. It is nice to see I was right."

“You dare?” Anakin hissed, his hand on his saber.

“Of course I do," Maul said. “The dark side is swirling around you even now- nipping at your heels. Tell me,” he said, leaning forward suddenly “ _one Sith to another_ , did you really think you could keep their vows?”

Padme watched with a kind of nightmarish fascination. The dynamics in the room were almost visible- Maul’s arrogance clearly infuriating the boy, driving him deeper. Every line of Maul’s body radiated scorn at the Padawan, and Padme suspected he was sending it in the Force as well. She could almost feel the dark side swirling in the room. Maul was right, Anakin was turning, his path hanging on a razor’s edge.

“Your vows are troublesome to you aren’t they? Do you think you will ever be allowed to cut off that ridiculous braid when you can’t even keep your thoughts off of her?” Maul continued. He stood and stepped behind Padme.

“Not that I blame you. She is the most beautiful woman in all the worlds." He kissed her lightly on the shoulder and walked over to the bar. Padme watched in slow motion as understanding dawned on the boy’s face and he looked from Padme to Maul and back again. The setting sun shining through the windows highlighted his face. His eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Padme?” he whispered. He was shaking, his face pale as a sheet under its usual tan. Padme shook her head.

“Jedi Skywalker. You will leave _now_ before anything happens here. I am giving you a direct order," she said. But her heart was breaking.

 _Oh Ani._ She thought. _Little Ani go back to the Temple while you can. Please go back before you do something irrevocable._

“ _Sith_ ," Anakin said, his voice choked with hatred and jealousy. “I don’t know what you have done to her. But I will-”

“Oh be quiet, boy," Maul sneered. “Done to her? I’ve done nothing _you_ would understand, little Jedi. But if this is the respect you show her then it is no wonder she doesn’t want you.” He made a shooing gesture, looking bored and annoyed.  

“Go away. Turn. Or don’t. But leave. This is _adult_ business," he said, placing himself back by the counter where the saber rested.

Padme drew herself up, ready to shout them both down. Maul had no right-

Suddenly they all heard running footsteps and Obi-Wan Kenobi darted into the room, his saber lit. He took in the whole scene in a flash. His face was furious. It was clear he could sense every dynamic in the room.

“Padawan.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Go to the Temple now. Go directly to Master Yoda. He is waiting for you," Obi-Wan said. His eyes never left Maul, who had turned still as a stone.

Anakin was struggling to speak but clearly he was being forced out by the two men. Even Padme could feel it. She added her thoughts as well for what it was worth- thinking _go away Anakin_ as hard as she could. The Padawan gave her a last look, tears shining on his cheeks, and backed out the door. They heard his retreating steps in the silence that followed.

“I knew you lived. I was sure of it," Obi-Wan said, raising his saber again. The borrowed saber was in Maul’s hand, and he lit it now, shifting his stance to face Obi-wan more directly.

“Master Kenobi. You will not need that weapon,” Padme said. “Please turn it off while you are in my home. The same for you Maul." She kept her voice quiet but exerted all of her will between them. They were both poised on the cusp of violence and she didn’t want to lose either of them. Obi-Wan gave Padme a searching look but turned off his saber and returned it to his belt. Maul shut down his saber but remained poised on his toes. The hatred between the two was palpable.

“Now," Padme said. “I am going to make tea. Obi-Wan, you are going to sit in this chair, and Maul, you are going to put on clothes. The droid brought more. They are in your room." Again she kept her tone calm and reasonable, the way she would talk to two strange dogs circling each other. Maul got up, his head tilted back, all arrogance and teeth and sauntered away to find clothes. Obi-Wan sat slowly down in the chair, shifting his body to face the direction Maul had gone. Then he looked at Padme, his face bewildered and hurt.

“Padme, I don’t understand any of this.” he said, gathering his dignity about him. Padme winced at the pain in his voice. But she was determined.

“Do you trust me, Obi-Wan?” she asked. He nodded without hesitation. Padme thought she would love him forever for that.

“I trust you. Do you trust him?” Obi-Wan kept his voice quiet, but the weight of the question hung between them.

“He keeps his word,” she said. “But he is dangerous. I want him by me. I want him with _us_.”  Padme held his gaze for a moment then went to the kitchen to start tea and fetch her own clothes.

The situation could not have been stranger. Padme sat on one chair, Obi-Wan on the other. Maul sat on the couch with his legs crossed under him. The two men were drinking their tea in silence as Padme told the story of her escape from Naboo and how she and Maul made their way to Alderaan and revealed the truth about Sidious to the Jedi. She barely touched on what happened afterwards, glancing at Maul and saying “we became close," Before launching into the pit fight and what had happened there. She glossed over most of the details but knew Obi-Wan could sense them all anyway. When she was done she took a long sip of tea and watch Obi-Wan closely. He was still staring at Maul but seemed slightly less tense. And Maul was staring back. He was rubbing his stomach without seeming to be aware of it. The scar was there, the scar Obi-Wan gave him.

“You killed my master," Obi-Wan finally said, the simple words carrying the weight of years of grief.

“You killed me and my master both," Maul replied, his voice strangely hoarse. Padme kept her mouth tightly shut, even though the urge to mediate and negotiate and make peace were strong in her. The silence dragged on. Padme felt strangely tied to both of these men, opposites but mirror reflections of each other.

It was Obi-Wan who broke the silence.

“The war is over," he said. Padme’s heart broke a little at the weariness there. It had been an ugly conflict- Tarkin appearing with an army mixed of enslaved clones and droids. Obi-Wan Kenobi had led the slave uprising himself, after living for weeks in the sewers and underbelly of Kamino’s vast cloning complexes.

Maul remained silent, but the pressure in the room seemed to decrease. Padme cleared her throat.

“What will you do now, Obi-Wan?” she asked gently. His blue eyes locked with hers and she saw understanding there, as well as pain. Padme’s vision blurred with tears and she smiled as best she could, gratitude suffusing her being.

“The Council has taken Anakin away from me. Grand Master Yoda will be training him personally. They leave for Jeddah today," He cleared his throat, clearly trying to center his emotions. Maul shifted uncomfortably but Padme stilled him with a look.

“The war is over, and I have lost my Padawan. I have no particular purpose at this time. The Council says I am free to choose my own path," His voice was calm but there was bitterness there, and a kind of resignation. Maul’s hands were clasped together and he was leaning forward, rocking slightly.

“Come with us," he burst out. Padme looked at him, shaken out of the mood by surprise. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows had climbed up into his hairline and he snapped his mouth shut.

“You should come with us," Maul repeated more calmly. “We should know each other better,"

“You aren’t serious," Obi-Wan said flatly.

“I ask him that a lot. But he is always serious," Padme said ruefully.

“I don’t understand why you are asking this," Obi-Wan said.

“Neither do I,” Maul said. His voice sounded calm but he was rocking slightly forward and back, his knuckles pale where his hands were clenched. “I want to kill you. I want it more than anything. But the Force is saying otherwise.” Maul drew a deep breath and unclasped his hands.

“I have been pushed and pulled by the Force since Naboo, since Tattooine. I am tired of fighting it,” he said. He stood up and stepped over to Padme. He bowed to her, hand on heart, as they did in Coruscant’s uplevels. He took her hand and turned to the Jedi.

“My place is with the Chancellor.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his feet, rolling his cup between his palms. He stood up slowly and stepped up to Padme. He bowed with his hands clasped, as they did in the Temple. He glanced at Maul but then locked eyes with Padme.

“I have nowhere else to go,” he said.

Padme stayed still for a moment, looking at each of them. The wheels in her mind were already turning.

“Then let us begin with Golden Fist,” she said and sat back down, pulling a datapad towards her. 


	2. Smutty detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little side fic that happens sometime during Maul and Padme's time in her apartment. 
> 
> Someone on tumblr asked if Maul would get pegged and there was some debate. I immediately thought of Padme and decided to write a little thing.
> 
> Sensual pegging here- this is not about pain, or humiliation or any forced feminization or any of that. For me personally pegging is a deeply intimate act- a chance to play a little with gender and vulnerability.

  
Stripped bare like this, weaponless, without the thousand layers of his robes, Chancellor Amidala had to admit that Maul was somehow MORE menacing- not less. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest and she fought to keep countenance. _He is mine_ , she thought, _he will do what I tell him_.

  
Maul was only a little taller than she was, but he was heavy with muscle. The way he tilted his horns at her, his eyes unblinking, his body perfectly still- the threat of violence was there. It was obvious. His rough affection, the bone dry wit, the sprawled laziness as he read her books- they were all gone. He was on his toes now, focused as a well charged blaster.

“Kneel,” Padme said. Her voice was steadier than her heart at least.

Maul regarded her for a long moment, and the sense of danger swelled, crowding the corners of the room, dimming the light around them. _Is that the Force? It must be. Fucking hell…_ Padme drew a deep breath and pointed to the patterned carpet at her feet. She said nothing. They stood frozen for another long breath.

  
Then he knelt. It was a graceful movement, like everything else he did. Maul looked up at her, trying to hide the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. Padme looked away, out the windows to Coruscant’s skylanes- or she would be grinning like a fool. She was trying to be serious! Damn the man!

  
She let her robes slide off her shoulders and stepped closer to him. His eyes never left her face, though what was in front of him should have had his complete attention. Internally Padme sighed, of course he had known. Ah well…

She had chosen the dildo carefully. It was a dark gunmetal blue and had two ends, one snug inside her, the other pushing out between her outer lips, with a flat little curve that her clit could rub on. The shaft itself was a thick curve, silky to the touch with just enough give to let it flex. It had a thick, streamlined head, resembling the nose of a ship more than a human penis. Best of all, it only required the lightest harness, a mere jeweled chain that circled her waist and around each thigh. Most of the support came from her own inner muscles, gripping the thick bulb inside her.

“Suck,” she said. Again a tiny smile touched the corner of his mouth. He leaned slightly forward and placed his lips on the tip of her cock in a chaste kiss. Then, without breaking eye contact, he licked a long stripe down the side of it, all the way to where the dark blue shaft emerged from between her lips. His tongue teased over her sex, under the shaft and she shuddered. As he licked his way up the other side she saw that same little smile again. This time he took the duraplast head in his mouth and swallowed the shaft down in one slow, wet slide. Padme hissed, her hips rocking forward despite her best efforts.

  
“You’ve done this before,” she said, her tone accusing. Maul drew back just as slowly until a long trail of saliva hung between the shining head and his lower lip. He didn’t say anything but winked and pushed forward again with a low moan, his eyes closed as though savoring every inch.

  
All Padme could hear was the ringing in her ears and her own harsh breath as Maul repeatedly swallowed her shaft and slid back. The wet slurps of his lips and his rumbling groans were making it impossible to think. Every pull tugged the cock where it was seated inside her; every push nudged the base against her clit. Padme’s hips rocked forward and back helplessly. _Is there anything he isn’t good at?_ she thought in frustration. _He even sucks cock gracefully._ Distantly she was aware that she was getting so wet she was going to start dripping.

  
Maul saw it too; he pulled off and licked down the side of her shaft again. Blue was the right choice, _the color suits him_ , she thought. This time he nuzzled between her legs, licking the underside of her cock, licking up her juices where they were leaking around the part of the shaft that was inside her. The scrape of his tongue made her shudder again, the rough texture against her engorged lips waking her up out of her daze.

  
“Get on the bed,” Padme said through gritted teeth. Her fists were clenched tight to keep from grabbing his horns and burying herself down his throat again.

  
“Yes Chancellor,” he murmured and _that_ did it. Padme let out a grunt and pushed him backwards, even as he was rising to his feet. He fell backwards onto the bed, unresisting, his legs hanging over the edge so his feet were still flat on the floor. He was hard as a rock, his cock curving up from his hips and leaking freely. Padme kicked his legs apart and bent to take his prick into her mouth, sucking hard and fast for a few strokes until he squirmed away- too sensitive for more.

  
Padme fetched the lube off the table while he lay there shuddering. Before he could get his bearings she was back between his knees, their cocks bobbing against each other. His eyes sought hers and she was pleased to see the little arrogant spark was gone. His pupils were huge with want. There was a sheen of sweat across his chest and Padme wanted to lick it up- later. Later. She traced the sides of his hips, trailing goosebumps as she dragged her fingernails along the outside of his thighs. She gave a tug and he lifted his legs, putting his feet up on the bed on either side of her. His navel was trembling slightly as he spread his legs for her. Padme moaned in approval.

  
“Show me,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  
Maul canted his hips up, spreading his legs further. His hole was a darker red than the rest of him and blood hot where she traced a manicured nail lazily around his silky rim. His whole body shuddered at this- a little whine escaping his throat. Padme held his gaze and drew her nails lightly across his opening again. He whined again and another spurt of precome squeezed out of his straining cock. She looked up at him and he licked his lips. Nervous. Finally. She held out the bottle of oil.

  
“Get yourself ready,” she said flatly and he took the oil with a trembling hand.

She watched, not bothering to hide her feelings as he coated his fingers with the oil and ran them around his hole. She watched avidly as he pushed a finger inside himself. His eyes were lidded in concentration and his toes curled and uncurled helplessly on the bed. A second finger joined the first. Maul propped himself up on his other elbow so he could reach better. He made little huffing grunts every time he buried his fingers into his ass, turning his wrist, tugging and twisting in his hole. He added more oil to his hands and Padme felt a grim pleasure at how his hands shook. He managed a third finger, sitting almost all the way up to reach. Once they were in, his hips began rocking, stuttering little movements that only emphasized the bulging muscles of his thighs where he held his legs apart. Padme leaned forward and licked the sweat trickling on his right temple. She ran her tongue over his open mouth, tasting their morning kaf in his panting breath.

  
“Are you ready for me?” she murmured into his ear. He nodded but continued to fuck his fingers in and out of his hole. When she tugged his wrist to pull them out he collapsed backwards with a strangled groan, throwing his arm over his eyes and arching his back. In a move too quick to follow he hooked his ankles behind her back and yanked her forward between his legs.

  
“No,” she snapped, bracing her arms against his hips. She shoved backwards again and slapped his cock hard, the wet smack deeply satisfying. He came halfway off the bed with a bark of pain, his eyes blazing at her. She held up her hand again. 

“You are not the one in charge here Lord Maul,” she said, her jaw clenched. She grabbed the undersides of his thighs and pushed them back, her nails digging into his skin. He fell backwards again, his hips rocking of their own accord.

  
“Hold your legs. Right. Here,” she said and he did, his eyes wide, canines flashing as his lips curled. Padme took a small step back to enjoy the view. The Sith looked desperate, his legs shaking and oil oozing out of his hole. His ass was hanging off the edge of the bed. She had never seen anything so filthy in her life. With shaking fingers she scooped up some of the precum that had pooled on his navel and used it to lube up her cock, jerking it roughly a few times, letting the curve at the base bump her swollen clit. Then she lined up the tip to Maul’s hole, again admiring the dark blue against his red and black skin.

  
“Come on Chancellor,” he snarled. “If you’re going to fuck me, then _fuck_ me.”

  
Padme couldn’t help it, she let out a delighted peal of laughter. She pushed forward in one long shove, deciding niceties were long passed. Maul arched his back and let out a hoarse cry, throwing his head back. The cords on his neck bulged as she buried herself into him. Before he could recover she began to roll her hips, fucking him short and hard. She aimed up as well as in, circling her hips until she found his prostate. She grinned when he shouted, his knuckles going white where he gripped his thighs open for her.

  
“That’s it,” she purred and snapped her hips up against the same spot over and over. "Let me hear you." He cried out again, his cock pulsing in time with her thrusts. The motion also drove her clit against the base of her strap-on and she felt her own toes curling against the carpet. _I am going to come so hard_ she thought.

  
Maul was moaning and cursing in turn, rocking his hips to meet her thrusts. He wrapped his legs around her waist again and grabbed his own cock in a slick fist. His other hand cupped under his balls, pulling them slightly, digging his fingers into his perineum. Padme snapped her hips harder, her eyes full of Maul’s stretched rim, shining wet, his strong hand twisting his cock under the fat head. His mouth was open and he was whining high in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut.

  
It was seeing him so completely destroyed, all arrogance, all dignity- gone- that did it. Padme felt the tell-tale tightening in her pussy, milking the bulb inside her. Her clit pulsed and she drove her cock up hard, grinding her hips up into the Zabrak as she came. Distantly she felt him cum too, spraying his seed all over his hands and belly with a roar. The aftershocks were so hard her cock slipped free of his body. His feet hit the floor with a thump and he let out a long moan, burying his face in his arm again. Padme clambered up beside him and collapsed on her side, her breathing harsh. She watched sleepily as his body shivered and twitched until he finally turned to her and nuzzled against her belly. They shifted and moved until they were properly on the bed with a blanket thrown over them, sticky and content.

  
“Thank you,” Padme whispered against the skin of his neck where he held her.  
“Mmmph,” he huffed. “It’s been a long time since I did something like that.” His voice rasped, hoarse from shouting. Padme decided she like the sound of that.  
She wanted to ask him- _how long? When? Who?_ And why had he let Padme take him the same way? But sleep was dragging her under and she decided not to fight it. If he wanted to tell her- he would. They had time.


End file.
